


Sincerely Yours

by kuro49



Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [13]
Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Drabble, Getting Together, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: Your death is violence reincarnated. His is too.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Jason Todd
Series: 200 subs promptathon of 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622572
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81
Collections: Jason Rare Pair Challenge





	Sincerely Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wajjs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/gifts).



> the best blob asked for clarkjay: you never get what you love, so you love what you get. ([originally posted to tumblr](https://setsailslash.tumblr.com/post/612009613868646400/clarkjay-you-never-get-what-you-love-so-you))
> 
> and we talked at lengths about what i could do with this prompt. so naturally, here is none of what we discussed 😂 set within the dceu after justice league, i like to think batfleck being older means his robins are all older too, which i take to mean around the same age as dceu clark 👀

Your death is violence reincarnated. 

His is too.

When you watch Superman return from the dead on the breaking news, you almost laugh loud enough to wake the neighbours. Especially when you see him shake off the members of Bruce’s team like flies. The only one going toe-to-toe with him being Diana Prince, but that’s not a surprise when you’ve already been through all of Bruce’s files. 

You heard they were calling themselves the Justice League. 

And you had to wonder if it was Bruce to come up with a name like _that_.

Coming back is not easy. 

You don’t suppose it’s going to be any easier for the last son of Krypton. 

“You’re not Bruce.”

You don’t laugh in his face only because Alfred has taught you some resemblance of manners. Instead, you step aside and let him inside the house. You don’t take a second look at his light blue pick up truck parked down the long driveway, all covered in dust and dirt.

“And you’re not Superman.” You tell him, bringing a hand up to push a pair of invisible glasses set over the bridge of your nose, watching Clark Kent go red when you do, and you think, _good_. Because you really aren’t quite sure what those black-framed glasses are trying to hide.

“ _Oh_ , you know.”

He even has the decency to sound surprised.

“I guess you’re not from here.” You meant Gotham but really, you could mean _here_ in the broadest sense of the word too: this Earth. But you’re not quite sure whether he is ready to hear that from you. You go with something that packs a softer punch. “We tend to know everything. It’s a Bat trait, Clark.”

A bad pun for a little bit of bat fun. You see a small reluctant quirk of his mouth going up at one corner, and you really have to pat yourself on the back.

“And you are?”

“I’m Jason, and I died too.”

For first impressions, you’re pretty sure you left one.

Your return was, for a lack of a better word, wet. 

And when he tells you his tale of how he came back to life, all the details that weren’t broadcasted on live television, you can’t help but sigh a little because: “Gotta say, I’m a little jealous that they dug you out.” 

Clark Kent has steel blue eyes, and you almost had to bite your tongue from asking if this is another superpower he’s got when he is really truly _sincere_ without even trying. “I’m sorry that it happened to you that way.”

You are too. But you don’t tell him that. 

Instead, you smile. And you’ve been told your smile is a little crooked, too much teeth and too thin lips. He doesn’t say any of those things. He makes a better host than you hope to in Alfred’s absence when he helps you cut the apple pie he brought with him.

Clark Kent sits with you, and eats and talks with you while you both wait for Bruce to come back to this glass house. 

The similarities between you and him end at this: That Bruce played a hand in death.

You’re not in love.

It would be kinder if you were. But it is a close enough thing that if you don’t think about it at all, you can almost believe that you are. You squint in the Metropolis sun and almost calls it off entirely because nothing is worth this glare in your eyes.

“You made it.” Clark says, and you settle down on the bench of Heroes Park. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you everything.”

Clark hands you one of the hot dogs he bought from the cart across the street, and you think you’re staring because: “Uh.” 

Clark bites into his and you take a pause before you mirror him. 

“It’s not bad.” You say to him, finally when you swallow because it’s no chili dog, and you are pretty sure you are going to need to take him to that place in the Bowery you like if just so he can experience it for himself.

“Jason,” he tells you, and you think there is a small hint of slight exasperation to it. “You know you can just say it, it’s okay.”

“Say what?”

Clark is chuckling around a bite, even shakes his head a little like he can’t believe it. When he looks at you, it’s a wide span of the sky.

“Just say it’s good.”

There is a spill of sunshine dappling through the trees, a light breeze, and you, Jason Todd, had to blink with the realization because the closest thing you’ve ever been to happy is being trigger happy. But that doesn't have to be the only thing you know.

He gets it without you needing to say a thing at all.


End file.
